Black and White, Splattered Red
by Epic Bayttle
Summary: Laurel Thorne joins the 73rd Games with an idiotic brother in tow. Fauna Springflower of 12 wants her sister to be safe. Rai Sean wants to go home. Dusk Saphira of District 1 finds herself in the midst of a bloody battle. May the odds be in their favor.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, so this is a story co-authored by LxZrulez, The Huntress of the Moon, and TikiSun. XD Hope ya'll enjoy it!**

**LxZrulez: I get to say the disclaimer! So basically...**

**TikiSun: No, me! Me! Me!**

**LxZrulez: Shut up, baka! So basically...**

**The Huntress of the Moon: SHUT UP. Okay, we don't own Hunger Games or anything, just our ideas and characters... yeesh...**

**TikiSun: But I wanted to say it!**

**The Huntress of the Moon: ...Okay, well, story's starting...**

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**Finally**  
**Laurel Thorne's P.O.V**

Yes. My waiting was _finally _over. All my sixteen years of training and preparing would finally show as I won the 73rd Hunger Games in honor of District 2. I was ready to win it all and prove my family, full of Game winners, that I could carry on the honor and become famous.

Not only that, but I got to kill other people. I mean, how fun is that?

Also, this year I would get the glory of killing my stupid, foolish, idiotic twin brother, Derrick. I hated him. Hated his guts. Hated his stupidity and lack of devotion to the honor of his District and family name. Thorne's were winners, not losers like him.

Although we looked somewhat alike - the same curled black hair and icy blue eyes - our similarities ended there. I was sly, skilled, and swift. Unlike him. He represented an ox. Slow, red-faced, large, and stupid.

I knew his plans to volunteer. I had heard him talking to Cato, his bloodthirsty sidekick, about volunteering. Ha. Isn't he the brave one. What he didn't know was that I was planning to volunteer too. Just my luck. That thought brightened my day right up. Hopefully I would get to kill him. If everything went to plan, I would smile as I slit his throat and dance around his corpse when I was done with him. Beautiful. My father would be so proud. I leaped out of bed, slipped my black "Death-to-Tributes" T-Shirt on, and thundered down the stairs. I overheard my mother, who won the 56th Hunger games, prattling like the empty-headed fool she was on and on to Derrick.

"Today is the day! You _must _volunteer today. At all costs. You know that, right? Derrick? Are you even listening to me? Don't just stand there like an Avox, say something!"

Derrick mumbled, "Yes, I know. Shut up, mum," and walked out the door. I smirked. Coward. Beaming, I followed him out.

"Aw, did the itsy-bitsy baby get scolded-wolded by mummy?" I cooed in a voice used to address babies. Not that I ever did, of course. I had no patience whatsoever for their squeals, shrieks, and screams. Unless I caused them. Then it was enjoyable."Poor little-wittle boy. Or, did he perhaps already want to volunteer? You should change your mind before you wet your pants, little brother." Then, my voice hardened. "You should leave the frightening stuff, like raising your pudgy hand, to those who actually have guts, brainless."

He flushed. "Shut up, Laurel."

"I don't think I will. Soooo sorry. You know, I heard you talking to Cato about your volunteering idea. Such adorable, courageous plans you have there. Hopefully you'd have the guts to carry them out. Really. I still remember when you were afraid of your birthday cake's candles. That was funny. But, of course, that fear is nothing compared to this!" I taunted him, watching for his expression.

Derrick turned on me, furious. "I said shut it!"

"Actually, my dear baby brother, you didn't. You very specifically said 'shut _up_', not 'shut _it_'."

Derrick fumed, " Just shut up! Or else I'll -"

"No. Why should I? What can you do to me that will actually make me scared? Maybe frighten me? Sit on me with your big butt?" I interrupted rudely. Before he could reply, I pointed. "Hey, we're at the plaza now. You actually didn't see it? Wow!"

"If you didn't notice, I was talking to you! And I was a little distracted at the time!" he growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I forgot!" I said, slapping my hand lightly to my forehead, as if I just remembered something. "I'm sorry! You can't multi-task! You're apparently unable to walk and talk at the same time! So sorry!" I smirked at his red face. He looked like a bull now, what with his flaming cheeks, wide torso, and thick legs. Ha.

I left from teasing him and went to stand in the 16-year-old girl section with the others. I waved and smiled at my friend, Clove, as she gestured for me to join her. As I reached her, she murmured quietly, "What did you do to Derrick? He looks mad!"

I merely smiled and said, "The usual." She nodded and grinned, her eyes roaming. As her eyes reached the stage, her grin widened even more and she nudged me. I looked, and stifled a snort.

Our new escort was an extremely overweight woman. She was wearing pink, tight skirts, which only emphasized her bulging fat more. Her pink hair was curly and long, totally contrasting her bloated body. She walked to the podium and began to speak about the Games this year, and all that other crap. It was pretty hard to understand her, what with all the squealing, giggling, and squeaking.

I managed to make out that her name was Helda Lipos. What kind of names do Capitol people have? Honestly! She gestured to one of the Peacekeepers to bring both of the reaping balls to her. Lipos attempted to fit her plump hand into the opening at the top, but it wouldn't go in. I couldn't help but smirk at her attempt. Scowling, she decided to ignore ceremony and just dumped the contents onto the floor. Smart. Bending down, which was an enormous effort I'm sure, she fumbled for a slip and then straightened up to read it. I hoped it would be someone other than my brother. Watching Derrick volunteer would be the time of my life. I wouldn't be in surprised if he started wailing his baby head off in fear of the incredible gift he could be granted.

"Derrick Thorne," she announced. My fool of a brother trembled like a coward before composing himself and striding upstage. At least he wouldn't have to volunteer himself. Then he wouldn't pee in his pants. He glared ferociously - oh, how cute! - at the audience to ensure that no one would volunteer for him. No one did. Cowards. Oh well, it was best. Then, I could enjoy killing dear baby Derrick. What fun! I gave a crooked smile in anticipation.

"And now, for the female tribute..." Reaching down, her pudgy hand found another slip. "Lilian Mi-"

"I volunteer!" I called, savoring my victory already. My brother gaped at me, jaw dropping to the ground, eyes as round as the moon. His expression was priceless. No doubt the cameras would love this moment. The whole of Panem would see how ridiculous he looked, and they'd think he was the idiot he was.

"I volunteer, too!" Clove called from right next to me - wait, Clove? But she _knew _my plans! Curse her to the deepest pit of the dark gates of the devil. She was my friend! Oh well, I could deal with her easily. Without blinking an eye, I turned around and punched Clove in the stomach and then elbowed her in the temple, effectively knocking her out.

There. Problem solved.

"Anyone else?" I smiled sweetly at the crowd. When all the girls around me, who were previously whispering to volunteer, backed away hurriedly, I beamed at the bemused escort, who I could see was happy for a bit of drama. Perfect for the TV screen. I walked confidently up the stage. The escort gestured for Derrick and me to shake hands. I happily complied, grabbing his hand, making sure to crush it anddig my sharp nails in. He winced. Perfect.

**Bad Luck**  
**Fauna Springflower's POV**

"Flora! No, don't go! Come back!" I cried in desperation as my little sister walked away from me. I was in the Games. And, for some reason, Flora was in it too, not just the boy. _Why was she here?_ But, now, she was walking into the dark unknown of the black forest. And I was powerless to stop her. My legs felt like leaden weights, my arms useless sticks at my side. Then, my eyes widened in horror. "Flora! _Come back!" _But to no avail. Flora shrieked as she saw what I saw.

A _Career._ A filthy, stinking, bloody Career, with a broadsword clutched in his ham-stringed fist. Flora recoiled from him, her arms thrown up in front of her face, in a fruitless attempt to protect herself. He swung his sword. Impact. A thin line of red dotted on her arm. He. Hurt. Her. She cried out in pain and fear, cringing back as he smiled at her. He was playing with her. Finishing her slowly. My temper rose. _She's my sister!_ I ran forward, shoving her out of the way of that deadly sharp, heavy blade. Pain. A flame exploded in my hip where his sword had stuck. He yanked the sword out and stabbed me in my chest. Before the darkness took me, I found my sister's scared gaze. 

_Goodbye._

I awoke with a start, gasping. Oh. _It was a dream._ I attempted to comfort myself, that Flora was alive, that she was not in the games. After all, she was only 10. Wait, no, 11. Today, ironically, was her birthday as well as the reaping. Which probably explained the nightmare. As I lay, disoriented, a sudden doubt pushed through my mind. 

_Why do I hurt where that Career stabbed me?_ I panicked, standing up suddenly. I realized. Oh. I had fallen out of bed on my hip, banging it on a picture frame that was lying on the floor, and then a book had fallen when my arms hit it while flailing around as I fell. I gently lit my oil lamp, looking at the picture frame. I hadn't damaged it, thankfully. I peered at the dim figure. Who was it? Oh. Mother. She had been a prominent figure in my life until she had been shot while working in the fields. I missed her so much, her warmth, her words... Gently, I pressed my lips to the picture. A silent salute.

Suddenly, the door banged open. I jumped to my feet, an adrenaline rush coursing through my blood.

"Fauna! I - I had - a nightmare - reaping - y- you- you - chosen -" My precious, beloved sister Flora stuttered as she collapsed in my arms. As I sat us down upon my bed, cooing softly at her to comfort her, hate filled my mind. At the Peacekeepers who had murdered my unprotected mother, at President Snow for having the Hunger Games that so frightened Flora, and myself for not caring for Flora. Not even now, just a few months from my mother's death. _I will protect her,_ I vowed. _With my life._

When dawn came, Flora was asleep, but I had to wake her up to go to the reaping. "Come, Flora, little flower." I whispered in her ear as I shook her gently. "Wake up." Memories flooded back to me, of when I was four, and Flora was born. Mother decided to have us match. Flora and Fauna.

"Flora, come, let me dress you. You need to look nice for the reaping, remember?" I murmured fondly. She nodded timidly.

After we dressed, she took my hand and whispered, "We need to hurry. I know you want to meet up with Rue, right?" I nodded. Rue. My beloved friend, the fierce caretaker and protector of her sisters. Although she was Flora's age, and I was five years older than me, we both understood each other well. We both need to protect our loved ones.

We walked out of our ragged cabin, holding hands. Soon, after a silent walk to the plaza, I hugged my sister once, and kissed her forehead once. "If anything happens to me, just remember to stick with Rue and her dad, okay? Promise me you won't do anything stupid if I get chosen. All right? Please, just for me."

Flora's eyes began to water. "Just don't get chosen, okay, sis? Promise?"

"I promise. I love you." I gave her a final hug, and walked over to the other sixteen year old girls, who were all clutching their clothes nervously. A few were crying. I didn't say a word to anyone around me, though I knew most of them. Miranda, Lindsay, Autumn, Skyler.

Then, the escort came. She was a thin woman that had really frilly clothing. She had rose tatoos all over her body. Her hair was yellow, but it wasn't a natural blonde color. It was more like a bright, glowing yellow, like the sun. However, her eyes were the most startling. One was a bright pink while the other was green. Whoa.

"Okay, quiet down please," she said in a surprisingly deep voice. Her voice was low, but it still sounded girly. Weird. "Okay, this is the 73rd Hunger Games! I know how excited each of you are, but I need quiet!" When everyone settled down, she continued. "My name is Minnie Pero, and I'm so excited to be your District escort! All right, let's get started with the reaping!"

"And... for the boy, we have..." she cleared her throat and smiled falsely. Then she daintily picked up a slip and said, "Caleb Hawkeye." Caleb. I frowned and my heart really went out to the stunned boy. He rose and made way to the podium. His family were probably distressed beyond words. He was only fourteen for crying out loud!

"Okay! Now for the girl tribute! Alrighty, and we have..." I squeezed my eyes shut. Please not me. Not me. Please. Flora needed me. Not me. Anyone but me. I know it sounded selfish, and heartless

"Fauna Springflower." It was me.

No. How could it be this way? If I were in the Games, I wouldn't survive. And then, Flora wouldn't survive. Sure, she might survive the starvation her and I shared all the time. But emotionally, she'd be torn to pieces. How could the Capitol love this? This ripping apart, destroying... No. For now, all that mattered was... was... nothing. I was as good as dead.  
My steps were slow, small. I stepped up to the stage, and heard a small cry of despair. Flora. I almost turned around, but if I did, I knew I would cry. And that wasn't going to help me anyway. I pulled a smile on my face with much effort, hoping very much it wasn't a grimace. I had to pull myself together.

"And we have our two tributes from District 11! Everyone, give a hand to these brave volunteers!" Minnie cried out. The whole of District 11 clapped, but it was a dead sound, exactly in sync.

"Well? Go ahead and shake hands!"

Caleb and I shook hands. His hand was extremely sweaty, and he was biting his lip as he looked up. "Best of luck," I whispered to him.

He nodded. "Best of luck."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry if there are too many reapings... but for you to understand the story, ya'll have to know the characters! Well, actually, Evenade's reaping was just a comical relief... it was really fun to write!**

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**Also, the disclaimer. "We solemnly salute that we do not own Hunger Games in any way. We only own our own creations, and our ideas. Please do not sue us for copyright." *grins* Now that that's all over, we can start the story!

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**Sentencing Myself to Death**  
**Dusk Saphira's POV **

I blinked my eyes as light shined through the thin gossamer drapes. I got up and stretched, my legs tangled in my soft bedsheets. The air was cool, drifting in through my open bedroom window. The District 1 buildings seemed bright and happy. I wondered why I felt so despairing. It seemed a nice enough morning. And then it hit me. Reaping Day. Right.

I got up and slipped on a simple white tunic. Courtesy required that I wore something special when people got chosen for slaughter. But hey, simple's fine. At least, in my opinion. And that's all that really mattered to me. The Capitol could spend as much time prettying me up if they decided I was too ugly. Their waste of time. Although I probably wouldn't be chosen. At least I hoped not.

District 1 hadn't had a victor for a decade. All the others had been killed off within the first six days. And for District 1, that was a disgrace. Usually the teenagers would be clamoring for a chance to volunteer. But not now. No one wanted to volunteer when they thought they would lose.

That wasn't why I didn't want to volunteer, though. Have you ever had a role model, someone who you admired more than anyone else? That you believed nothing could kill? That's what my older sister Night had been to me.

But her name was reaped. And she was sent to the Hunger Games. I had known what that meant. But it still didn't prepare me.

"DUSK! GET UP!" My younger sister, Dawn's, voice interrupted my musings. I slipped into my sandals and dashed out of the room, careening through the kitchen doors just as Dawn opened her mouth to holler at me again. Dawn and Kaen looked up at me as I almost barrelled into them.

"Geez, what are you, a kamikaze?" Kaen demanded, leaning back and ruffling his dirty blond hair. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Shut yer trap," I told him. My eighteen-year-old brother rolled his eyes at me. Dawn just looked at me sadly, her large blue eyes blinking back unshed tears. I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her.

"You'll be fine," I assured her. "You're only twelve. I'm much more likely to get picked then you are."  
"That's what I'm worried about," Dawn whispered as she clung to my tunic. I stroked her long hair. She clung to me harder.

I eased her grip on my clothes as I made my escape. "Sorry, gotta go. Don't wanna be late." I ran out of the house, but not before I heard Kaen chuckle. I resisted the urge to turn right around and set his ego in its right place. Fortunately, I couldn't bear to leave Dawn without another sibling, so I left him alone.

"Idiot brother," I grumbled as I shut the door behind me. "I still can't believe you and Night were twins."

As I stepped outside, I realized all was quiet. That was all I could hear. Nothing. I wanted to prolong this moment, knowing that once I got to the square I'd be facing a certain death if I was chosen. A death that would mean humiliation. Bloody, dangerous murders. But I pushed on, anyway. For what, I don't know.

And finally, I was there. In the square, surrounded by girls my own age, all clamoring for the chance to enter a game of death. I couldn't hear their chatters, no matter how loud they were. Meaningless. That was what they are. Pointless. Empty.

Charity Arketa, the Capitol fool who was our escort, called a name after a long, droning speech. I wasn't surprised when she pulled out a slip of paper and was about to call out the name when Paris Troy, the brother of the one who killed my sister, the arrogant idiot who was always grinning at others though there was nothing to laugh at, volunteered. I raised my head, watching as he made his way up to the stage.

And I expected it. The sudden hate that took over me, threatening that I would commit a murder that would happen anyway. Loathing the way he strutted up the stage, winking at the cameras. Anger washed over me as he flashed a grin at a group of swooning fourteen year-old girls. I covered my ears with the palms of my hands as the citizens of District 1 chanted his name over and over.

"Paris! Paris! Paris!"

This one drunkard leaned over to his equally drunk friend and slurred, "Mebbe we'll have a - a vic- vit- winner this year."

I gritted my teeth, my fingers twisting around the rough fabric of my tunic. Dream on, fools. But these people didn't stop their cheers. Maybe they thought that District 1 finally had a tribute that would stand a chance at winning when a decade of them had failed. It wasn't until that Charity Arketa shouted for silence that they actually shut up.

"Please, ladies and gentlemen! I know you're excited for this handsome lad over here, but you must be quiet! I have draw the next tribute!" she squealed in her silly, high-pitched voice. Paris grinned at her, gesturing for her to continue. And continue she did. She stuck her hands into the glass container, fingers closing around for slip of paper, and pulled it out. I prayed it wasn't me. I didn't want to kill people. I didn't want to murder for entertainment.

She cleared her throat, and called out...

"Dusk Saphira."

My body seized up for a moment, then relaxed as I made my way up the stage. This was my chance to finally avenge her death. After all, _he _was there. I would kill him.

And may the odds _ever _be in my favor.

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**Unexpected Factors**  
**Rai's POV**

As soon as I woke up, I knew something was off. I got working in my father's hardware store, when I noticed that he was still in bed, and the sign that hung on the doorway read closed. Then I remembered. It was reaping day. I shrugged it off as I continued making digital watches. Last night, I had already calculated the odds of my name getting drawn. 50,092 to 1. The population really wasn't that high, it was just the tesserae that people were forced to buy. I knew some families who had to enter their children's names up to 20 times. I pitied them, and always wondered if they resented me for having so much. They probably did, even though I helped them with hardware whenever I could. As I rewired the radio system of a sophisticated alarm clock, only for sale to the Capitol, I realized the my hands were clumsier than usual, and they were shaking. It was useless. The odds were so greatly in my favor, and yet I was nervous. I wrapped the parts in an oilcloth and stepped outside.  
I got a good look at my District. District 3. I loved everything about it, the geometrical way the buildings were placed, the exactness of the streets, and the brilliance of the citizens. But this day, even the buildings themselves seemed solemn, hushed, as if in anticipation for the reaping. It was eerily silent. The sound of welders, power saws, and hammers than I grew accustomed to over all these years were replaced by nothing. It reminded me of the first time I build a flash-bomb. I over-fused the perk cord, which resulted in it having too large of a blast radius. When I tested it, the sound caused by the explosion knocked me to the ground and I couldn't hear anything for days. I knew that thinking so much about such abstract topics was not good for my health, so I sat down and tried to do something math related. I couldn't get my mind off of morbid topics, though, and I found myself calculating how many years I had left in my life. The figures were high. I wish I felt that way.

The District was gathered in the square, which was really a regular hexagon. Our escort, the usual flamboyant Capital fool, called for the crowd to be silent. But in the anticipation, the fear, we already were. As he went over the usual formalities, my brain wandered, like it usually did. I began calculating my lifeline in my head. I already did the easy part, finding the average lifespan and subtracting it from my age. Now I factored in other things, such as the risk for unnatural deaths and the hazards of living in my environment.

I saw a girl walking over to the stage, her face stunned, disbelieving, like the antediluvian animals when they saw the ark built. Was that... Valta? From my math class? It took me a full second to realize that she was chosen. Then I went back to my calculations as I absent-mindedly watched our escort pull out the other name. Sixty-nine minus twelve, the age length I subtracted in account of breathing fumes from auto-mechanics equaled fifty-seven. I racked my brains for any other factors. The escort pulled the name out of the bowl. Fifty-seven plus twenty-three equaled ninety, and once you multiplied that with thirty-four over eighty-one, accounting for natural hazards... you got...

"Rai Sean," the escort called.

You got zero.

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**Evenades POV**

I felt like my lungs were going to burst as I ran toward Jordan, a super handsome boy in my reading class. No! Too late. "I volunteer!" he cried out in his husky tone. So brave and courageous of him! Wait. Volunteer? District 5 hadn't had a volunteer in years!

Then, I blinked. Where was I? Pink ceiling, yellow walls, I was definitely in my parent's room. I looked around and saw my mother looking at me, concerned. "Are you alright, honey? You were yelling, 'No! JORDAN! _My Jordan_!' in the middle of the night. After all, today _is_ the reaping day." I felt blood rise up to my face. I muttered a quick assurance to my mom, and stuffed on a plain white dress. I flounced out of the house, eager to meet Jordan. I even didn't eat my breakfast! I ran all the way to the square, not because I was eager to go to the reaping but because Jordan was there.

I beamed at him when I saw him. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. He looked like sooooooooo totally cute! He didn't notice me. Humph. I pouted and then glanced at the escort, who was a lean man with a potbelly, ironically. Ugh. How ugly. Totally unfashionable! He walked up to the platform and began to blab about the Hunger Games. I mean, like, who cared? It wasn't like I was going to be chosen. He smiled at the audience, and reached for a slip of paper. Then he spoke.

"Evanade Ayisha."

NO! I almost fainted right there and then. Me? In the Hunger Games? Oh! I saw my precious Jordan in the crowd. What if I never got to see them again? No! Never! I would win for my Jordan. After all, such a pretty girl as me would win, right?

I walked up the stage, smiling, though there was no applause. How offending. Then, the escort read of the next slip of paper.

"Jordan Samuels."

I saw him stumble up to the platform. No. Not him. I shrieked out loud. "NOOOOOOO!" The audience stared at me. I was sure the whole of Panem would laugh at me, but... _my Jordan_... was in the Games... As the escort said how happy we would be, I couldn't help but think that only one of us would survive. Something wet ran down my cheek. It would be me, of course, but... _my Jordan_... As the escort nodded for us to shake hands, I fainted. _No... my Jordan...

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	3. Worse Than Death

**Sorry, sorry, sorry we haven't been posting. Anyways, just get reading. XD Anyways... disclaimer!**

**We don't own the Hunger Games, but if we did... let's just say it wouldn't be very good for some of the characters.  
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**Worse Than Death**  
**Dusk's POV**

Everything had passed so quickly. The Justice Building, the train ride, the huge, overwhelming dinners with my idiotic fellow tribute and my mentors. It wasn't that bad. Up until now.

"In a few moments, you'll look absolutely stunning!" Firoma squealed as she dabbed powder for the twenty-fifth time on my face.

"Don't I already?" I grumbled sarcastically. Avathis rolled his eyes as he brushed back his spiky eye-watering yellow hair.

"Of course not!" he shrieked. "You barely look human!"

"Whaddaya mean, I don't look human?" I muttered so that he couldn't hear me. "What do I need to look human? Dye myself pink and purple with dog ears?"

"Yes," Aho said vaguely, his purple eye-lined eyes contrasting oddly with his orange colored face . "That's just what you need. And perhaps a jabberjay beak, too..." Oh, great. My prep team wants me to look like some hybrid bird canine mutt. And then set me on a bunch of terrified tributes. Terrific.

"Now... the hair! Tsk tsk, the hair!" Firoma wailed as she held up a lock of my hair, her bright green head shaking as she choked back tears. "It's so... so... so...unshiny!"

Aho and Avathis nodded wholeheartedly. I think I broke a rib from trying not to laugh.

"Okay,"Aho declared as he held up a bottle of gooey shampoo,"Let's get started!"

Yes, let's start torturing Dusk to death. They should really have been there during the dark days. These idiots of a prep team could've tortured anything out of anyone. Boy, how I wish I was wrong. Unfortunately, I was right.

Not only did they _have _to shampoo my hair over and over until it was shiny enough for their liking (and until my head felt sore), but they decided to re-powder my whole body. And wash me and re-powder, claiming that they missed a spot here and there. Of course, no tribute could _ever _look truly beautiful without jewels on their finger nails... so they spent another hour placing little itty bitty emeralds and sapphires on my fingernails. I counted the seconds in my head. 17974 seconds later, my stylist, Maddie, came in. If he wanted to give whoever was looking at him a heart attack, he'd succeed.

I felt my stomach qualm as I studied the man who would be my stylist. He was very, very tall, with waist-length golden hair that seemed to glow. His eyes put the sun to shame. All in all, my eyes hurt. A lot. It would've been better if he wasn't wearing such a bright yellow.

"Thank you, Aho, Avathis, Firoma," he said in the highest pitched voice I'd ever heard. "Wait here. I'll need your help in a moment."

My idiotic prep team squawked like that chicken my dad bought once. They just kept on making those shrill noises, and made me wish I could kill them with the comb in Firoma's hand.

Maddie stepped forward, circling around me. I felt a strange urge to kick him in the shin. Then run out of the room and put on the first thing that was actually wearable. But I stood there anyway. No insulting your stylist, Cashmere had told me, unless you want him to ridicule you in front of the entire Capitol. I really wished she hadn't told me something logical as that.

"Now tilt your head up for me," he lilted, putting his fingers under my chin to lift it up. I wanted to bite his fingers off. I really wish I could. He began circling, studying me like I was a doll. I hated it.

"If you dare touch me again, I'll kick you in the crotch," I warned him snappishly. I couldn't take it anymore. Who cared what Cashmere said. I was in for hell anyway. He smiled in such a false way it was difficult for me to restrain my foot.

"I know you like the way you look right now, but we must make you more beautiful if you wish to survive!"

I grimaced darkly. This guy had serious issues with survival skills. "What, you think the mutts will decide I'm too pretty to be eaten, mutilated, or sent to death in whatever painful way they desire?"

"Precisely, darling!" He smiled happily. "I'm so glad to finally have someone clever enough to know how important looks are!"

I stared blankly. Then wondered whether I'd lost all my sanity. Not that I had much in the first place, but this was something not even MY messed up mind could think of.

"... And can we get Torture Hour over with already?" I demanded. "Or do you like prolonging the moment in order to inflict traumatization on my relatively young brain?"

Maddie grinned in a way that made me think that he might be worse than all the Capitol Mutts put together. "Oh, we'll be done soon darling. Very soon."

Yeah, right.

"Don't forget, smile, wave, and look beeeeeeeaaaaaaaautiful!" he squealed. I immediately thought of a mouse. A blond mouse wearing yellow who was holding a gigantic comb and hair curler. Thank goodness that he didn't use it on me.

"Okay," I agreed listlessly.

"Don't grip your dress!"

"Okay."

"Don't trip."

"Okay." I refrained from pointing out that I wouldn't be walking, thus I would not trip.

"Win over the crowd!"

"Whatever."

"Don't give me that attitude!" It seemed that Maddie noticed the change in my answers.

"Okay."

"And... look beautiful! Stunning! Gorgeous! Radiant! ... and, uh, pretty. Goodbyyyyyyyye darling!"

"Okay." I turned heel and scrambled into the chariot, forgetting for a moment that Paris Troy was there. Of course, once I realized that, I stumbled right back out. Then I spent a few seconds deciding which was worse: my psychotic stylist or that idiot blondie. I decided the stylist was worse. The worse Paris Troy could do was kill me. Maddie could lock me up in a room and use me as an oversized cosmetics doll. When I looked at it like that, the answer was quite obvious.

"Say a word to me, and I'll rip your head off," I snapped at blondie as I unwillingly stood next to him. Paris grinned as he swished his hair back.

"Had a bad day, sweetheart?"

My fingers twitched. I seriously started to wonder whether I should just kill him with the diamond clip in my hair, but I resisted.

"Use that head of yours," I advised him,"Or I'll rip it off for you."

He winked. "What's that supposed to mean, sweetheart?"

I exhaled sharply. "That means," I explained with all the patience of a kindergarten teacher,"that if you know what's good for you, you'll shut up."

"What if I don't know what's good for me?" he asked in a flirtatious tone, winking. I grinned.

"We already know, don't we?" I said cheerfully. "If you don't know, that means your head won't be where it is right now for long!"

He took the hint and turned away. Good. But then he turned right back around.

"Oh, come on, Dusk, do we have to hate each other? I mean, what if w-" He stopped short. Probably because I elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hmmmm..." I 'thought' for a moment. "I know this is going to be hard for your pea-sized brain to understand, but... yes, we do. Your brother killed my sister, I'll kill you, and everyone's happy!"

He grumbled and turned around again. If he kept on doing that, his loose bag-head would end up falling off. Maybe then I would be able to find out whether his head was really the hollow shell I thought it was.

The chariot jolted forward, and I almost fell off onto my face. Luckily for me, I grabbed the edge first, so I wasn't run over by the horses. I saw the beautiful-but-creepy girl from District 2 giving me a strange look that was a cross between _that-girl-is-so-stupid_ and _let's-see-how-shall-I-kill-her?_

I quickly turned around before she could make up her mind. Paris was also looking at me funny. Huh. What am I, a freak show?

Yeah, I am. Why else would I be here, paraded in front of a bunch of live dolls whose only interest is who dies the most dramatically and who kills the most? But since I wanted to live, I began waving and trying to win over the crowd. People were cheering, hooting, and trying to bury us in an avalanche of roses.

It was worse than I thought. I glowered at the audience, while Paris was winking, blowing kisses, and waving at them. Idiot.

Okay, let me get this straight. Nice people equals good. Stuck up blondie flirt equals bad. You get me?

Good.

So you'd understand why I got off the chariot, turned around, and slapped Paris as hard in the face as I could.

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**Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to our new reviewer, DiedLaughing. XD Sorry for not updating! We're trying!

Disclaimer:

Me: Evenade, you say it!

Evenade: OMG, so like, if we, like, totally owned the Hunger Games, it would be, like, so cool! Then, like, we'd make enough money to totally fund my, like, totally awesome jewelry and makeup!

Me: Idiot... well, let the Games continue!

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**Sizing Up All The Idiots I'm Against**

**Birch Fall's POV**

First things first. My name is Birch. Birch Fall. I am twelve years old. I got picked for the reaping. In general, my life sucks.

I walked into the training arena, clutching the end of my shirt in nervousness. If I was to survive, I would have to learn most of this stuff. I first spent some time learning about plants. I knew most of them - in District 7, my mother constantly reminded me of the different flowers, leaves, trees... Just thinking about it wanted to make me start tearing up. But in front of the cameras, I had to be strong.

I pointed out and sorted the plants into two piles, the guy who taught the plant section looking over my shoulder and nodding in approval. Dock for scratches, juniper for aches and cramps, and marigold for fever. Then, of course, there was nightlock leaves, nightshade, and deathberries to worry about. All deadly. The one plant that really caught my eye was moonthistle. I'd never seen one until just now. It was small, with curled stems, and silvery white flower petals, which were shaped like a hibiscus. They looked nice... but were they useful? I took a small knife and made a tiny cut on my thumb very carefully. Ouch.

I chewed the leaves and spit it on the cut. It immediately stopped hurting. Gotta remember that one. Then, I began to walk to the other stations. Honestly, I wasn't super excited about trying to lift a heavy mace or try to cleave someone through with a battle axe. I was only twelve. I couldn't do that kind of stuff. No, I'd leave that to that show-offy blonde guy who was

twirling an axe like a small stick. If only I was bigger, I would at least have a chance.  
But I did have some smarts in me. After I had finished learning about the plants and how to tie knots, I decided to waste time in the long-range weapons section. At the same time, I would analyze all the other tributes. If I was to survive, I would have to learn and know my enemies. I was no good with a bow - I couldn't pull a bowstring very far, but I was pretty good when it came to throwing darts and I also could hit the target every time with a small knife. Not bad, but it wasn't like they had darts in the Cornacopia. Or a ton of small knives.

By then, I noticed the District 11 girl. She was in the same station as me. The District 11 girl picked up a bow and then smiled. She grabbed a few arrows and began shooting the dummy. Most of the arrows found their mark on the dummy's head, but some missed. Hmm... I would have to kill her first. She would be dangerous competition. But I noticed she was sometimes glanced around nervously while she was shooting and pause often. That meant she was reluctant to kill, weak in a way. By the way she acted, I could tell she wouldn't shoot someone like me, someone small and weak. All the better.

I spied on the weaker tributes less carefully, just noting the weapons they favored right now. I noticed the District 3 boy was in the mechanic section, but he had a club with him. A club, eh? Like that was going to kill me. It would be simple to counter and dodge. Then again, never underestimate your opponents. Maybe he was skilled with it in some way.

I saw the District 5 pair practicing against each other experimentally. The giggly girl was using a rapier, and the boy held a large broadsword. The girl was an average fighter, nothing I couldn't deal with, and the boy was too. However, the District 5 girl was a little bit smarter in choosing her weapon; I could tell the boy was holding a badly balanced and heavy sword just by the way it drooped in his hands.

Monica, a girl from another District which I wasn't so sure of, was experimentally throwing javelins and throwing axes. She sucked with the javelins, but she wasn't too bad with the throwing axes. But most of the time, the handle of the axe would hit the dummy instead of the blade.  
I went to the sword section, and saw a brunette slashing at a dummy with a... I wasn't sure what it was. It was a sort of sword, I guess. But I recognized the girl. I knew her. Dusk. She was different from the other Careers. Less... mean. Not as sadistic. But she had something strange about her. Not something I understood. Dusk was very skilled with her swords. I couldn't extract more information from her attitude. Ah well. Chances were I wouldn't kill her. Then, I turned toward the Careers, my worst opponents.

The District 4 girl was stabbing with a spear. She was good. Though she was right handed (I could tell by the way her right hand was gripping the top of the spear), she tended to attack at the left side. Weird. Probably to keep her opponents off balance. I would remember that if I fought her. Not that I would really stand a chance though.

The Career boys relied totally on strength. They didn't have any brains, except maybe for the District 1 guy. Really, all the attacks were totally unoriginal. Just a simple slash here, or a bash there. Not something hard to dodge, I guess. I would stand a chance against any of them, probably, if I had a decent weapon. I had to learn to fight.

However, the District 2 girl was a completely different matter. Her attacks were very graceful and swift. Within thirty seconds, she had stabbed, beheaded, and slashed a dummy to a point of unrecognition. It looked like a huge, unravelled toilet roll. If I was against her... no chance. She was fast, skilled, original, and strong. No chance. Hopefully, the other Careers would destroy her before she killed everyone else. Like me.

Then, a whistle thrilled a long scream, signifying the end of the training session. Great! After a few more panic attacks, I would get to learn how to kill everyone in the room later.

**I Get a New Stalker**

**Dusk Saphira's POV**

As I slashed the dummy again with my katanas, I noticed a small girl watching me with round, hazel eyes. I didn't stare at her back, but I certainly felt her round pools of eyes boring into my back. Those innocent round, staring eyes. What was she looking at?

When I turned around to glare at her, I noticed she was watching someone else. Good. I knew what she was doing. I think. That little girl was observing us, looking for weak points. I wouldn't show any then. I whirled around and beheaded the dummy I had been practicing against. If I had to kill that little girl, hopefully it would be that fast.

The whistle blew out. Lunch time. I dropped my katanas, and ran at full speed toward the dining hall, away from that little girl with those huge eyes. She creeped me out, in a way. There were three tables in the dining hall, all filled with food. The Careers walked over, arguing, laughing, and talking at the table with the most food. Not surprised, I guessed. Especially for that fatty from District 2.

"Hey," one of the girls called. "Why don't you join us?" I looked around and noticed she was staring at me. Eep.

"...me?"

"Yeah. Duh."

I walked over cautiously. When it came to Careers, there was no telling what would happen. She smiled and gestured for me to sit by her. The girl's smile was so false. I thought of Charity Arketa. They did look alike. With a little bit of altering, tweaking the pitch of the voice, dying hair and curling it, and as a final touch, adding a small wart on her nose, Sara was ready to become an Arketa clone.

"Hey, I'm Sara. That's Laurel, Derrick, and Claude." She pointed to each of the Careers before turning back to me. I wondered why she bothered. I mean, I already knew them. Paris had already blabbed off about how awesome the Career pack was, and how he owned them all, and how he was the merciless leader. Yeah, right. "And of course you know Paris. He's been talking about you so much." Sara smirked and turned to swat Paris.

"Shut up," Paris and I muttered at the same time. He frowned at me and raised his eyebrows. I flushed a bit and glared back. He cowered a little at my death glare. Good.

"All right. Enough with those stupid introductions. They make me sick. Honestly!" Laurel rolled her eyes and interrupted my thoughts, "What's with the 'Hi! My name is blah-blah! I'm a stupid purple three-footed monster with pink polka dots and buck teeth!'? It's totally lame." She flipped back her long curled hair and turned her eyes on me. They slitted. Honestly, the idea of the "stupid purple three-footed monster with pink polka dots and buck teeth" was really starting to remind me of a certain someone. Probably Paris. Or Laurel. Both were possible choices.

"Let's get down to business. Are you going to join the Career pack? There certainly are some advantages. More supplies, an alliance. Not to mention the fact that you get to kill anyone in your path." Here she smiled evilly. How could she enjoy killing people? The only reason I was in the Games was because a stupid accident.  
I did consider the benefits and downfalls of joining the Career pack. I really did. It could help me survive longer. But I knew my answer. I didn't want to be as bloodthirsty as any of them. Anyways, I loathed Careers. Especially when that idiot Hector Troy killed my sister.

"No."

Laurel stopped smiling at me and snarled, "What did you say?" Her eyes were shooting daggers while her hand twitched toward a nearby butter knife. To stab me, no doubt. _Wonderful! _I thought. _I get to be skewered before the Games actually start. How lucky is that?_

"No." I got up and just walked away. It was sort of childish, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. Instead, I sat next to the small girl who was watching me earlier. She was sitting across the District 11 girl.

The little twelve-year-old turned toward me. Her face broke into a shy grin. "Oh. Hi," she said in a light voice. "You must be Dusk." Wait. She knew my name? Creepy. Wow, she really was a stalker.

"I've been watching you. You're a great fighter."

"Um... thanks." I wish she'd cut the flattery. I wasn't going to drop anything to this girl. She was trying to kill me. She wasn't as innocent as Dawn. Or was she? Was I just imagining it?

"What kind of sword were you using?" she asked innocently. But I saw through her plan

"That's none of your business." I spoke a bit sharper than I meant to, but really, it wasn't any of her business.

"Okay," she replied happily. "I understand if you don't want to tell me anything. It must be a huge secret! Wait a second... I think I saw those eyes before! Was your mother or your brother or your sister in the Games? Must be. Probably died, since I have no idea a victor was like that. You look familiar."

"Shut up," I snapped. That really hit a nerve.

"Okay! Shutting up!" she smiled cheerfully. Nothing was going to make this girl unhappy. Honestly, you'd think she had more sense, especially in the Games. Crazy stalker lady. She didn't say anything after that. She just kept eating and got up. "Well, I'll see you around, Dusk. By the way, I'm Birch." She left.

I waved, and then dropped my hands. I sure screwed that up. I could have asked for an alliance with her. I mean, she did look like she could take care of herself. And above that, she was intelligent. How typical of me to mess it up. Ah well. Training time again. I'd pretend the dummies were Paris. That whole idea of stabbing and destroying Paris would totally made my day.

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Okay, please review! We'll get our next update, hopefully, this week or something. HOPEFULLY! XDXDXD


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